


Only Love Can Save Us Now

by UnderTheSkyline



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Marriage Consummation, Morning After, Rollo and Gisla, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:00:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6039193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderTheSkyline/pseuds/UnderTheSkyline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rollo and Gisla, and how they interact with each other in the different stages of their marriage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to give my sincerest thanks and appreciation to ZoeSong, as she was the one who encouraged me to write this story. You should read her stories about Rollo and Gisla, [The Princess and the Bear](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4131462/chapters/9314895) and [The Consummation](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6018915), because they are amazing!
> 
> English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance if there are any mistakes or if any of the situations depicted in the story are not clear enough. Please let me know so I can correct them and improve.  
> I hope you enjoy the story, and reviews are more than welcome :)

Gisla could clearly recall when she was formally introduced to him. Rollo, the famous warrior from the North. Her father had made her dress in her finest gown, wear her richest crown, as if she was some sort of prize for him to collect. Her father, who had always come to her for advice, who had always relied on her opinion before making any decision, couldn’t even consult with her if she agreed on this marriage.

She was no fool. As a princess, she knew that her marriage would be an arranged one, a loveless marriage that would seal a political agreement. But still, she felt betrayed. A lot of men had proposed to her, and she had been able to reject all her suitors; all of them weak, all of them liars, men who only praised her to gain favor from the Emperor. But she had had the last word and her father never intervened. But now, he was selling her to this heathen without even considering what would happen to her.

She had to make everyone know that due to her father's weakness, she was going to be forced to marry a pagan, someone who was more beast than man. She made her best effort to insult the beast. She knew that her attitude was childish, but she couldn’t help it. He surely was going to show his true nature, and start insulting her back, but his reaction left her speechless. He just stood there, saluting them in her language and smiling like a fool. Could it possibly be that there was more to him than meets the eye? No, she was not going to be deceived by him, he might try to sound like them, he might try to act civilized, but he was never going to be one of them. She will always see him as an invader, as someone who took from them what did not belong to him.

She couldn’t clearly recall what happened in the weeks previous to her wedding, though. It seemed that everything happened while she was surrounded by a dense mist. Her mind seemed be playing tricks on her. Some days she felt that time was moving so fast, that one day she would wake up as an old woman. Other days, it felt that time was dragging slower than it should, the wedding day not coming soon enough, making her feel that this endless torture would never cease.

She remembered her father telling her that she had to fulfill her duty otherwise the treaty would be annulled, she remembered one of her ladies explaining to her what the act of consummation was, and she remembered that she cried every night until she fell asleep. Her only comfort was the time that she spent in the palace gardens, walking by herself, smelling the sweet flowers and touching the tough bark of the trees. She was going to miss this place.

Before she realized it, she was walking down the aisle. She knew that she had no choice; her father had put on her shoulders the responsibility of saving Paris from future attacks from the Northman. She was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she didn’t realize that she was crying as she was getting closer to the altar, that she hesitated before kneeling in front of the archbishop. If she hadn’t been so focused on her thoughts, she would have noticed the adoring look that Rollo had when he saw her entering the church, the gentle tone of his voice while he repeated his vows, the soft kiss that he placed on her lips after the bishop gave his blessing.

She couldn’t eat during their wedding feast; she felt a knot in her throat, as if something was stuck there. She was only able to drink wine. She knew that she had to fulfill her duty as a way to make sure that the treaty was sealed; Paris could not be left to the mercy of these pagans. She was afraid - he could do whatever he wanted with her and she couldn’t refuse. He was her husband. She was his wife. She had vowed to obey him before the archbishop, before God. Rollo had requested her father not to have witnesses in the chamber during the act of consummation, and her father accepted his request. She was afraid. She would have to be alone with him, with no witnesses. Not that any of them would do anything at all to stop this situation. What if she panicked and didn’t know what to do? The act of consummation was explained to her, but she didn’t know if she would be able to go through it. What if he was not patient and was violent with her? What if he hurt her? She remembered the first time she saw him, storming the walls of the city, not wearing armor, not even a tunic covering his chest. He was huge and he could perfectly force her to do his will. She trembled.

And the time for them to leave the feast had come. Gisla was conducted to their chambers by her ladies, and they helped her get ready for her wedding night. Gisla felt thankful that her ladies took care of her, she was unable to move, she could hardly breathe. They helped her change, they removed her crown and wedding dress, brushed her hair, and dressed her in a white nightgown. They told her that she should not worry, that Rollo would know what to do. She had no doubt that he would know what to do, but this didn’t bring her any comfort, she was still nervous.

Rollo was accompanied to their chambers by some of his men, and the witnesses. Although they were not going to stay in the room, they had to be there while the archbishop gave his blessing. When Gisla entered the chamber, everyone was already there. Roland, her most trusted guard, looked at her with a sad and pained look, Count Odo seemed to be trying not to smile, Rollo's expression was unfathomable.

While the archbishop gave his blessing, Rollo removed his shirt; one of the witnesses commented on how eager Rollo was to consummate the marriage. She started crying, there was no going back now.

Once the archbishop finished his blessing, everyone left and they were alone. She couldn’t stop crying, she could not believe how weak she was, and she turned away from him. She started praying; she felt so abandoned right now, by her father, by her people, even by God. She was not able to understand God’s plan right now. Why would God force her to this union? Had she done something wrong?

She turned to look at Rollo again, and the way he was looking at her surprised her. He looked worried, sad even. No, this is what he wanted, she remembered what her ladies told her, he was an experienced man, he knew what to do. He was trying to make her more docile, he was not going to fool her.

He took off his boots, she kept on praying. She thought that it would be better if they didn’t delay this any longer, they had to do what was expected of them.

She sat on the side of the bed and he got closer. He started talking and she couldn’t understand a word he was saying, but he kept on getting closer. She panicked and shouted at him to leave her alone. He stared at her lips and before even knowing how it had happened, he was on top of her. Luckily, she had hidden a dagger between the pillows. She put the dagger to his throat and she was sure that he was going to hit her, but he just stayed still, looking hurt. He grabbed her wrist and chuckled, she was not sure why. Was it because he actually felt how physically weak she was? She didn’t have time to think more about this, because her husband moved again. He took the pillow from under her head, spoke a little more in his tongue, and settled to sleep at the foot of the bed.

She kneeled next to him, and traced the curves of his broad back with the tip of dagger, and he didn’t even flinch. Was he mad? How could he carelessly sleep next to an armed woman who hated him? She had definitely married a crazy bear. And then the realization hit her. What a joke she was! He didn’t care that she was armed, because he knew that she was weak, that if he had wanted to, he could have taken the dagger away from her without effort. The dagger slipped through her fingers, fell to the floor and she started crying again, she curled in bed as far away as possible from him, while she tried to calm herself, but she couldn’t.

 

He couldn’t take it anymore; he could not just lie there, listening to her crying all night long. This is not what he wanted for her in their first night together. He stood up and moved to her side of the bed, he saw panic in her eyes as she moved against the headboard, but he picked her up in her arms and pressed her against his chest anyway. She tried to get away, but he held her firmly. She kept trying to get away from his embrace, until he sat back on the bed. She closed her eyes, tears running down her cheeks, her body went limp, as if she had resigned herself to accept whatever it had to happen. He kissed the top of her head, moved his thumb over her cheek, wiping her tears, while his other hand gently stroked her hair.

 

His actions surprised her and she realized that she could not fight him anymore, she was not strong enough, she was exhausted, and he smelled nice, like some of the trees in the garden, and his hug was comforting. She only wanted someone to comfort her and, enemy or not, he seemed to be capable of doing so right now. Maybe it was the wine that she drank during the feast, maybe she was just tired. She looked straight into his eyes; she hadn’t noticed before that his eyes were dark green, like the treetops in springtime. Perhaps his skin was like the bark of a strong tree, was that why he fought without armor? No, he couldn’t do that anymore. She would have to tell him that. Tomorrow, not now. Now she wanted to sleep.

 

He stayed still, waiting for her to fell asleep. He should put her back in the bed, let her rest, but he couldn’t, he wanted to hold her, keep her close to him. But he knew that he had to do something, otherwise they might be in trouble. Sinric had explained to him the importance of the consummation.

He placed her at one side of the bed, she stirred a little but didn’t wake up. He picked the dagger, walked to the other side of the bed, removed the bed covers, and made a cut in one of his fingers. He smudged the sheets with his blood, and moved away from the bed to pick up his tunic from the floor, he had to stop the bleeding.

When he turned around to walk towards the bed, she was awake again, a severe expression in her face, while she stared at the blood on the sheets and then looked at him. He gave her a reassuring smile, and said one of the few words that he knew in her language “Sleep.” She nodded, got inside the covers, and closed her eyes.

He got into bed, not too close to her, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. All he wanted to do was to make her feel protected, safe, loved. But there was no rush, he had a lifetime to do that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter based on what we have seen so far that will happen between Rollo and Gisla in season 4. You can see the videos [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxm4HPJTOMU) and [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x5eUsTAWaSk). Warning! Videos might contain spoilers. You have been warned.
> 
> Do I think this is a realistic representation of what would have happened in that period? No, I don't. I am pretty sure that in a marriage of such importance, the consummation would have taken place. But I think that the show won't be following that path as the audience will not feel comfortable watching a woman being forced to have sex with her husband.


	2. The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank everyone for taking the time to read the story, leave kudos and/or comments! I really appreciate it! 
> 
> Again, a HUGE thank you to [ZoeSong](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeSong/pseuds/ZoeSong), for her corrections and suggestions. You are awesome! :D
> 
> English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance if there are any mistakes or if any of the situations depicted in the story are not clear enough. Please let me know so I can correct them and improve.  
> I hope you enjoy the story, and reviews are more than welcome :)

Gisla didn't rest well; she kept on waking up throughout the night. She felt that every time she managed to fall asleep, it was only for a few minutes. And she had a dream, or was it a nightmare?

She could not remember all the details; she was lying in the grass next to a tall tree by the river. She realized she was alone and that somehow scared her. She heard muffled footsteps, someone was approaching. When she turned around to see who was coming, she panicked. A wolf was standing just a few steps away, staring at her, baring his teeth. Before she could decide what to do next, she woke up.

It was dawn; the light coming through the windows was still feeble. She turned over and looked at Rollo while he slept; he was lying on his side, one of his big arms under the pillow. He had pushed down the covers; she could see the strange markings on his pale skin. She remembered the first time she saw him on the walls of Paris, she had noticed that he was huge, so big that he seemed inhuman, but she did not notice the markings.

She focused on his face. She wasn’t sure how old he was - he seemed to be much older than her, but younger than her father and Count Odo. He appeared to be resting peacefully, but his face wore a frown, as if he was worried about something. She had seen him smile only twice; the day they were introduced and a few hours ago when he told her to go to sleep. He looked younger when he smiled, and less frightening. She turned around again, lying on her back and staring into the void.

Although she was sure that Rollo was not going to hurt her, she felt unease lying next to him. Would she feel more comfortable if he had claimed his rights as her husband? Probably not, but at least she would know who she was dealing with. She was so sure that he was going to force her; it truly surprised her that he did not. Why didn’t he do it?

He certainly was aware of the importance of the consummation; he had stained the sheets with his own blood after all. But why did he do that? Why did he want to lie about it? And why did he think that she would want to lie too? Should she pretend that they had performed their duty? Or should she tell the truth? What was she going to do?

 

Rollo woke up and noticed that Gisla was already awake. She was lying on her back, staring at the ceiling. She seemed to be so immersed in her own thoughts that she did not notice that he leaned over her until he was very close. She startled and looked at him, a mix of surprise and fear in her eyes. He placed a soft kiss on her cheek and lay back again, closer to her. She turned her head to his side and he started caressing her soft hair. He noticed that she was nervous but she did not move. She looked straight into his eyes, the surprise and fear of a few moments ago gone, replaced by a look full of shyness, and something else. Could it possibly be curiosity?

Sinric had explained the importance of the act of consummation; the children born from this union would inherit Rollo’s title and lands, so there could be no doubt about the parentage of the children. He knew that their sheets would be inspected afterwards to make sure that Gisla had saved her virtue for her husband.

It troubled him that the witnesses would be in the chambers with them. He knew that Gisla was a maiden and that, even if she was willing to perform her duty, she would feel mortified. It troubled him to think that these witnesses would just stay there while he forced her to lie with him.

But he had no intention of forcing her; she was a free woman, the brave princess that he saw rallying the troops, his wife. He didn't want to take from her more than what she was willing to give. But the look in her eyes made him wonder, what was she willing to share with him?

He felt so drawn to her; he wanted to feel her as close as he did the night before. He moved his hand from her hair to her waist and pulled her closer. She gasped in surprise and raised her hands to his chest, as if she intended to push him away. But she did not; she swallowed hard and stayed still, her hands softly pressed against his chest. He smiled at her, this was the only way he had to let her know that she had nothing to fear, that he had no intention of hurting her. He wished he knew the words to talk to her, to make her understand. He gently stroked her arm, the material of her nightgown soft under his rough fingers. He touched her flushed cheeks - her warmth aroused him. He ran his thumb over her lips, wondering how long he would have to wait until he saw her smiling. He felt his mouth becoming dry as he thought about those lips kissing him passionately.

He didn't want to force things with her. He knew that she was not used to physical intimacy. But at the same time, all that he wanted was to kiss her again. A kiss more significant than the one he gave her in church. His face got closer to hers, her eyes still looking directly into his own. He noticed that her breathing changed, that her lips parted and that her eyes moved to his lips. He closed his eyes and kept on moving closer to her.

A knock on the door broke the connection. She looked as if she had just awakened from a spell. She pulled the covers up to her chest, and sighed in what sounded like relief. He got up and opened the door; he saw Gersvinda, one of Gisla's ladies, accompanied by Sinric. Gersvinda nodded and Sinric informed that the lady was here to collect the sheets, the archbishop and the members of the court wanted to confirm that the marriage had been consummated. Rollo looked back at the bed and saw that Gisla was getting up; he stood away from the door and let Gersvinda step in. Sinric was still waiting on the hallway, and he told him that the emperor wanted them to have breakfast with him; a bath and clean clothes were being prepared for Rollo in a different room, and Jehanne, another of Gisla’s ladies, would come here to help her wash and dress.

While Gersvinda collected the sheets, he saw that she was talking to Gisla. Gisla was speaking very quietly and seemed to be ashamed. Was she trembling? Perhaps she was cold. He walked to her and wrapped her in his fur cloak.

 

She noticed that he was moving closer, and he placed his cloak over her shoulders. She gave him a small nod as a way of thanking him for the nice gesture. He nodded back, turned around, left the chambers, and closed the door.

She was a smart woman, but she couldn’t understand what had occurred a few minutes ago. She was deciding if she was going to lie about the consummation or not, and before she even realized what was happening, he was over her, kissing her cheek. It seemed that this intrusion was not enough for him; he pushed her against him, and touched her arms and face. He moved his face closer to hers, closing his eyes, and she was sure that he was going to kiss her.  
  
She felt so relieved when she heard the knock on the door that she couldn’t help but sigh. As soon as he got off the bed, she did the same. She was glad that Gersvinda was here. Her lady started collecting the sheets, and asked her if she was well, if he had hurt her. Doubt crept over Gisla again. Was she going to lie? Or was she going to tell the truth? After a few seconds of hesitation, she informed Gersvinda that he had not hurt her and she was fine.

Was she really fine? His fingers had felt rough against her skin, but his touch was gentle. He smiled at her, a reassuring smile, as if he didn’t want her to be nervous. She felt so embarrassed. Why had she thought about his smile while he was sleeping?

As she continued to stare at the closed door, Gersvinda finished removing the sheets and she informed her that the emperor wished to have breakfast with them, and that Jehanne would come to assist her to get bathed and dressed.

There was a small knock on the door; Gersvinda opened it to admit Jehanne and the servants that carried the bath. Once the servants left them alone, and she confirmed that Gisla had not been injured, Jehanne couldn’t hide her joy. She was smiling and kept on making small talk, trying to distract Gisla from whatever was upsetting her.

While she was at the bath, Gisla’s mind was somewhere else. She couldn’t understand her husband - what were the real motives behind his actions? This was an arranged marriage, she knew that and he knew it as well. Then why hadn’t he forced her last night? Why had he done what he did? Why had he been so kind to her this morning?

It troubled her not knowing what he wanted from her. He had not forced her to consummate the marriage, but he had almost kissed her; she could tell that it would have been a soft kiss, not a forceful one.

But what mortified her most was that, if Gersvinda hadn’t knocked on the door, she wouldn’t have stopped him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Morning After: A moment of realization in which the consequences of an earlier ill-advised action are recognized or brought home to one.


	3. Communication Is Key

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry that it took me so long to post this chapter! Real life intervened and, even though I had written most of the chapter quite some time ago, I was not really happy with the end result and I kept on making changes and additions to it.
> 
> I'd like to thank everyone for taking the time to read the story, leave kudos and/or comments! I really appreciate it! :D
> 
> As always, a humongous THANK YOU to ZoeSong, for her suggestions and corrections. You are the best! :)
> 
> English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance if there are any mistakes or if any of the situations depicted in the story are not clear enough. Please let me know so I can correct them and improve.  
> I hope you enjoy the story, and reviews are more than welcome :)

Rollo and the Frank soldiers had been training restlessly in the palace’s yard for hours when it started drizzling. Over the last couple of weeks, Rollo supervised the training rather than being a part of it. But today he sought a distraction; he wanted — he needed — to do something that fulfilled him. They kept going until the sky was turning dark and the rain was so heavy that they could hardly see each other.

He went back to the palace and requested one of the servants to prepare him a bath and informed that he would be taking supper in his chambers; he was exhausted and in a bad mood.

When he entered their rooms, Gisla was not there. He remembered that she mentioned to one of her ladies that the archbishop requested to meet her after vespers to discuss some matters related to her charities. He trusted that she would not lie to him, but he had no doubt that the stubborn woman would prefer to be out there in the rain, rather than spending any time with him.

The servants brought the bath and, as soon as he immersed his body in the warm, scented water, he felt the tension of his muscles ease. He tried to clear his head from trouble, but he was unable to do so.

After their first morning together, he had hoped that Gisla would be more open to being on the receiving end of his affections, but he learned very quickly that she had no intentions of doing so. Although she was not disrespectful, she was certainly not affectionate. It seemed that she felt guilty for letting him get closer, so she no longer let him come near her. She would get out of bed as soon as she woke up, and if he went to bed before her she would stay up, making excuses and refusing to get into bed until he was sleeping. On more than one occasion, Rollo woke up in the middle of the night and found her sleeping on the settle that they had near the window.

Those nights in which Gisla actually got into bed before him, he usually found her sleeping on his side of the bed, her head resting on one of his pillows. Rollo had to move her to her side of the bed, so he could sleep comfortably, and she wouldn’t wake up shocked that he was too close to her.

Rollo found it amusing that despite all her mistrust, she fell asleep so soundly that she barely stirred when he moved her to her side of the bed; she was a royal princess in every aspect of her life but when it came to sleeping, she was more like a hibernating bear.

Rollo felt that the time they spent together during the day was not enough for him to try to win her over. In the months that had passed since their wedding, there were days in which they barely saw each other. He tried as much as he could to spend time with her; he attended mass with her more often than he would like to, he accompanied her to the city when she dispensed charity, and he even walked by her side through the palace gardens, an activity that Rollo noticed that she enjoyed very much.

Gisla divided her time between her charities and overseeing that all the necessary belongings were packed before they moved to their new home in Rouen. Rollo occupied his days meeting with Count Odo to plan the strategy for the upcoming return of Ragnar — although he was sure that the final details of the strategy would have to be outlined once he was able to see for himself the defenses that Rouen had. He also dedicated a lot of his time supervising the training of the soldiers, and learning the Frankish tongue.

Abbot Lupus was pleasantly surprised on how quickly Rollo was learning and encouraged him to engage as many people as he could in conversation, telling him that he needed the practice to improve. Rollo was amazed at how easy it was for him to talk to everyone; servants, soldiers, Count Odo, even the emperor. But he found it hard to talk to Gisla, and refused to do so unless it was strictly necessary. There was something in the way that she looked at him, that made him feel as if she was always expecting something from him; she was certainly ready to laugh at any mistake he would make or, even worse, disregard anything that he had to say. No, things were different here. He was no longer under Ragnar’s shadow. If he was going to be judged, it would be only by his own actions.

He got out of the bath and put on a pair of leather trousers and a linen tunic. It worried him that Gisla had not returned yet. He knew that there was no need as Gisla was always escorted by her guards, but it still troubled him that she was out there in the rain; he doubted that she was accustomed to spending time outside in such a bad weather.

The servants brought the dinner and he took a few bites of the delicious food before sitting in front of the fireplace with a cup of wine in his hands. Before sailing to Paris with Ragnar, he constantly thought about the Seer's prophecy. Somehow he knew that his destiny was in Paris. After each failed attempt to break into the city, he didn’t allow himself to feel thwarted; he mustered his strength and hoped that the gods were witnessing his prowess in battle. But even when they finally managed to enter the city, he thought that the Seer was wrong, that there was nothing promising in his future, no reason for him to dance naked on the beach.

It wasn’t until he received the emperor's proposal that he felt that there was a chance for him to be finally happy. He welcomed the title and the lands that were being offered in exchange for his services, but what he cared the most about was her. Gisla. The woman that bravely stood on the Parisian walls encouraging the soldiers. The woman who had distracted him, allowing the Frank soldiers to throw him off the wall.

As soon as they started the negotiations with the Franks and Sinric was brought back to the Vikings’ camp — before Ragnar tricked everyone into believing that he was dead — Rollo couldn’t help but inquire about her. Sinric told him the little information he had; the woman Rollo had seen on the walls was the emperor’s only daughter, Princess Gisla, and that the common people gossiped that it was the princess who truly ruled Frankia.

He imagined himself next to such a fierce woman — how passionate she must be. After they were introduced, he confirmed his suspicions; she was full of a fire that he wished it would never be quenched. It had to be her, the princess that would marry the bear. But he did not imagine that she would be so outspoken about her rejection towards him.

It took him a little time but he finally understood why she rejected him; her father had forced her into this marriage, it was not her decision. She was compelled to marry a man she knew nothing about except that he was a heathen invader, a man she saw killing the soldiers who were trying to defend her people and her city.

Rollo knew that her rejection was also his own fault; even before knowing that she had been forced, he lied to himself. He convinced himself that the insults that she professed against him were just a façade, that she avoided him before the wedding because she was nervous. But when he saw her walking down the aisle crying, he knew that she didn’t want to marry him. On their wedding night, while he watched her sleep, he wished he hadn’t been so selfish, he wished he had been able to muster the courage to put an end to it, but he couldn’t do it. He knew that she was his destiny. He had to make her understand that they were meant to be together.

He was doing his best to gain her trust and make her happy; he killed the Vikings that were not pleased with him accepting the deal with the Frankish emperor, he changed his appearance to look more civilized, he was learning her tongue, he was learning about her God, and he was making plans to defend her, her people, and her city.

His gaze was focused on the flames when he heard the door opening, he turned his head and saw her. She was soaking wet, water pouring from her hair, Jehanne walking close behind. Gisla looked uneasy. What had happened in the meeting with the archbishop?

“Husband.” she said, with a slight nod, before she hurried behind the screen with Jehanne to change her clothes.

She changed into her nightgown and a robe, and sat in front of the fire, not too close to him to give him any kind of hope, but not too far away to be considered impolite.

While Jehanne collected Gisla’s wet clothes, a servant brought more food and wine. Once they were done, Rollo thanked them and Gisla dismissed them for the night.

Rollo stood up and poured wine in their cups and, to his surprise, she accepted it without hesitation. He noticed that she drank the content of the cup rather quickly.

He cleared his throat before he spoke to her, he couldn’t help but feel a little anxious every time he talked to her. “Gisla, go to bed. Please. You will get sick.”

“I will be fine, husband. It’s not the first time that I have walked in the rain. Besides, I’m not tired yet.”

He sighed. He knew that it was pointless trying to convince her to do something that she didn’t want to do; it saddened him that she had to be so difficult when he was just concerned about her wellbeing. He drained his cup, removed his tunic, and got into bed. He dozed off imagining the day in which they would go to bed together, and not precisely to sleep.

 

Rollo woke in the middle of the night. The heavy rain had turned into a violent storm, one rumbling thunder after the other. The fire had almost died and the room was cold. Gisla was sleeping on the settle; the storm not disturbing her sleep. He got out of the bed, cursing her for her mulishness; he would put her in bed whether she liked it or not.

His hands brushed her skin as he was starting to pick her up from the settle, and he noticed that she was cold. He let out a heavy breath, she would get sick just to irritate him.

He worked to revive the fire. Once the fire was blazing again, he grabbed a couple of furs from the bedding and placed them near the fireplace. He picked Gisla up in his arms and sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, pressing her cold frame against his own. He used one of the furs to cover them both.

 

Gisla had the same dream again. Over the last months, since she spent her first night with Rollo, the dream reoccurred every once in a while. In the dream, she is lying in the grass under a tall tree by the river when she sees the wolf. The wolf bares his teeth but doesn’t attack her. He begins to get closer and she cannot move. She is paralyzed; she knows that she won’t be able to outrun him. When the wolf is mere inches away, she wakes up. But this time, when she woke up, she found herself in a much more dangerous situation than the one in her dream.

They were in front of the fireplace. Rollo was sitting on the floor and had her on his lap, her body pressed against his naked chest. One of his arms was around the bend of her knees, the other around her back, his thumb slowly caressing her. He had used a fur to wrap them both; the fire was alive again, making her feel warm and contented. Or was he the one making her feel warm?

She really had intended to go to bed that night — she was cold and weary. The meeting with Archbishop Hervé didn’t go as she had expected.

When the archbishop requested to meet her, she assumed that it would be related to her charities. Gisla had assigned noble women to take care of them; she wanted to make sure that none of her charities would be neglected after she moved to Rouen. Perhaps an inconvenience had arisen and he wanted to assign a new patroness for one of them.

When she entered his office, she was surprised to see that her father was there as well.

“My dearest daughter, I have requested the Archbishop Hervé to arrange this meeting here because there is a private matter of the utmost importance that I would like to discuss with you.”

Gisla took a seat in front of them.

“Six months ago, I thought that offering your hand in marriage to the greatest warrior of the North would put my mind at ease; I would not only ensure the safety of Paris, but I would also make sure that you would be married to someone strong enough to protect you when darker times arrived. You will be leaving soon, and I must tell you that I am still worried.”

“And why is that, father?”

“I am concerned about the future of Paris; I fear that Duke Rollo may not fulfill his part of the deal. You see, my daughter, there are rumors that you are not performing your duty as a wife. At first, I thought that this was just court gossip, but I have been informed that you are not sharing the bed with your husband.”

She cursed herself. The servants must have seen her sleeping in the settle. “And what does that have to do with the future of Paris?”

“If you fail to satisfy your husband, what will stop him from getting tired of you and going back to his brother? What would stop him from leaving us at the mercy of the Northmen?”

Gisla felt humiliated. She was the granddaughter of Charlemagne, a princess of the blood. But now that she was married, it seemed that it no longer mattered; her own father thought that is was right to tell her to act like a cheap whore to keep Rollo on their side.

“There is no need for you to worry about the future of our beloved city, father. My husband has been tending to that. I am sure that Count Odo has informed you about the strategy that Rollo has planned to make sure that we do not suffer any harm once the Northmen return. And as for what happens between my husband and me, that should not concern you either. He has not shown himself to be displeased, and he is still here, is he not?”

Before the emperor could reply back, Archbishop Hervé intervened. “Your Highness, I know that this ordeal is troubling you, but you must remember that this is part of your duty as a wife. You also know that you must produce a male heir; it is the only way of securing not only your husband’s hold but yours as well. Your father and I fear what would happen if you are unable to conceive soon.”

Gisla couldn’t take it anymore; it embarrassed her to be speaking of these matters with them. She stood up. “Father, Archbishop Hervé, please excuse me. I must return to the palace. It’s late and my husband must be worried.”

As soon as she left the office she felt like crying. It felt inappropriate to discuss these things with her father, and it shamed her that he made Archbishop Hervé intervene. She forced back the tears and decided to walk in the gardens before going back to the palace. She needed some time to calm down and think things through. The unpleasant weather would ensure her some time alone. She requested her guards to leave her alone while she strolled through the familiar trees.

When she reached her favorite part of the garden, she took a seat on a bench. The huge tree beside it offered her protection from the rain.

She shouldn’t have lied about the consummation. She knew it had been wrong; they were expected to perform their duty, it was the only way validate their marriage and to ensure that the treaty would be fulfilled. But it had been Rollo’s idea not to consummate the marriage and she was thankful that he hadn’t forced her on their wedding night — or in any of the following nights.

She was no fool; she knew that she would have to lie with him eventually. At the beginning of their marriage, she feared that one night he would grow impatient of just sharing the bed with her and he would claim his rights as a husband. She refused to get in bed with him if she could avoid it. But he never tried to force himself upon her, not in bed nor outside of it. He attended mass with her, walked with her through the palace gardens. Always quiet, not trying to impose his presence. Although the motives behind his actions were not clear, she felt that he just wanted to be there in case she needed him.

And over the last months, without putting too much thought into the matter, she had realized that the idea of lying with him didn’t trouble her any longer. She attributed her change of mind to the fact that he had been nice to her despite her ill-treatment. She had not been mean to him, but during the first weeks of their marriage, she avoided him as much as she could, and she outright ignored him when they were together. But he had been patient; never demanding anything from her, just keeping her company, as if he didn’t want to get more from her than she was willing to give.

She was certain that his looks had nothing to do with it. But she could not deny that Rollo was good looking; tall, strong, with handsome features. And it was not just her opinion; she had witnessed how ladies giggled idiotically every time that Rollo talked to them.

Rollo talking in her language had been quite a surprise. Not because he wanted to learn — after all, he would need to speak the same language of his subjects — but because he managed to learn in such a short time. She knew that he was taking lessons with Abbot Lupus, but after weeks without hearing more than a few words coming out of Rollo’s mouth, she thought that he was not being successful in this task.

One day, she was about to enter her father's chambers, when she heard an animated conversation. Her father and a man were talking about ways of improving the defenses of the city. When she peered inside the room to see who her father was talking to, she was shocked to see that it was Rollo. He was talking fluently enough to someone who had recently started learning.

After that, she kept on hearing him talking to people; servants, soldiers, courtiers, Count Odo, even Archbishop Hervé. He talked to everyone. But not so much to her; every time that he was about to tell her something, she couldn’t help but stare at him, anxiously waiting for him to say something, anything, but nothing more than a couple of sentences would come out of her husband’s mouth. Perhaps he thought that he had nothing to discuss with her. Or worst, that she had nothing worth saying.

What if her father and the archbishop were right and she should be worried about Rollo getting tired of her? She was aware that men took mistresses sometimes; but they ended up going back to their wives, the wives that were the mothers of their children. What would happen then if Rollo took a mistress and she gave him the children that Gisla wasn’t giving him? The thought of Rollo kissing and touching another woman made her feel strained.

The rain was getting heavier and it was getting late. She took a deep breath. She decided that she would talk to him, explain how important it was to consummate the marriage. She would then pray to get pregnant soon. That would put everyone’s mind at ease. That would put _her_ mind at ease. She started walking back to the palace, anxious about what would happen when she talked to her husband of this matter.

It was funny how a few minutes ago she was thinking that lying with her husband didn't trouble her any more; but now that she knew that they would have to do it sooner rather than later, and that she would have to be the one to initiate things, the idea started to make her feel troubled again.

Perhaps it would be like she was told before the wedding, she would have to just lie down and Rollo would know what to do. It would hurt, but it would be over soon.

She was so distracted thinking about how she should broach the subject — and what would happen afterwards — that she didn’t notice that Jehanne was scolding her for walking in such a heavy rain.

When she got finally got to their chambers, Rollo was sitting in front of the fireplace, drinking wine. She greeted him and changed her clothes.

She sat in front of the fireplace, not too close to him so that he wouldn’t notice how nervous she really was, but not too far away to be considered impolite. He offered her some wine and she accepted it. Perhaps she would feel less anxious if she drank a bit before talking to him.

He asked her to go to bed; he seemed to be sincerely worried about her getting sick. She told him that she was not tired yet, hoping that he would stay by the fireplace and they would be able to talk. But unfortunately, it seemed that he was tired and preferred to go to sleep.

A lifetime in court had granted her the ability to see people’s real intentions. But she could not read Rollo, she could not understand the reasons behind his actions; all the things that he had done over the last months, all the changes that he had gone through, and for what? It surely was not for her, she hadn’t given him anything in return for his efforts. He was doing all this for the title that was given to him. He was a Duke now, he had to look and act as one. But if this was the only reason behind his actions, why did he look at her the way he did? Several times she caught him staring at her with eyes full of a feeling she could not quite place.

She pondered about these things while she drank some more wine and ate the food that was brought to their chambers. She noticed distant lightning in the sky. She moved to the settle to watch the lightning storm that was coming, just like she did when she was little and her mother was alive.

She wished her mother was still here. If her mother had lived longer, perhaps her father wouldn’t have become so dependent on her, perhaps she would have been married to someone else long before the Northmen attacked Paris, perhaps she would have been fortunate and her husband would have been as kind as Rollo had been to her. She sighed. No matter how much she tried, every thought ended up being connected to Rollo.

If he was going through all these changes just for the title, why was he being gentle with her? Gisla felt confused. If her mother were still alive, she surely would have told Gisla the exact words to help her make sense of everything. She closed her eyes, trying to remember her mother’s face, and fatigue won her over; she ended up falling asleep on the settle again.

And now, she was cuddled up in his arms. She had to talk to him about the marriage consummation but she could not possibly do so when her cheek was pressed against his warm chest. She knew she would not be able to voice any coherent sentence when the smell emanating from his skin was intoxicating her.

Without saying a word, she tried to move a little away from him, but he held her tighter.

“Rollo, please.”

“Shhh, be quiet. You must rest.” The sound of his voice was so soothing that it made her want to close her eyes and go back to sleep right in his arms, but she couldn’t do it. She had to have this conversation with him.

“Please. I need to talk to you.” She felt his grip loosening. She stood up, looking straight into his confused eyes.

Before she could even begin to talk about duty and consummation, the words that had been irking her thoughts came out of her mouth. “Why are you doing this?” 

“You were cold and I was trying to keep you warm…”

“No, that’s not what I meant.” She interrupted him. “Why are you doing all of this? The hair, the clothes, going to church, learning our language?” She swallowed. “Caring about me?”

“Because I want you to be happy.”

“Why would you care about my happiness? You only married me because my father offered you a title and lands to rule.”

He stood up. The sadness in his eyes made her feel guilty. Her words had hurt him.

“Do you honestly think I just married you for that?” He noticed that she blushed and looked down to the floor. “I care about your happiness because I care about you. You were the reason why I agreed to the treaty in the first place.”

She looked at him again, unable to hide her surprised expression.

“I have learned your language, changed my appearance, learned about your God, and I am doing all this for you. Even if you don’t reward me for my efforts, I will still do it because I know my destiny is to be with you. I am doing all within my power to protect this city from those who were my family and friends and, like you, I am prepared to defend Paris to the death.”

He spoke with such passion, not only in his voice, but she was able to see the fire in his eyes. “Those are nice words, Rollo. And while it’s true that I have not rewarded you for all your exertions, I won’t pretend that it hasn’t touched me that you have done so much just to make me happy. But how can I trust you? How can I know that you won’t betray me once your brother returns?”

“Did I not kill my own warriors?”

“Yes, but I don't know if it meant anything to you. It wasn't personal.”

He removed the silver bracelet that he always wore on his left wrist and handed it to her. “This means something to me. This is personal. An arm ring binds a Viking in loyalty and fealty to their king. Any oath that a man swears upon the arm ring must be kept, or else he will sacrifice his honor and his place in Valhalla. Do with it what you will.”

She took the arm ring, and while she held it, she rubbed his thumb, although she was not sure why she did it. “Valhalla?”

He returned the gesture; it felt odd to have her hand on his own, but at the same time it felt as if they had been doing this for years. “Valhalla is the place where Norse warriors want to go to after they die.”

He was so straightforward about his feelings, so unashamed to confess such things. She realized that she didn’t need to ask him if he would really sacrifice that much for her, because she already knew the answer. She had witnessed it in his actions over the last months, and she could see it in his eyes now.

They stayed like this for a little while, staring into each other’s eyes. The sound of a thunder brought them back to reality, and she realized that she had moved closer to him, both their hands still holding the arm ring.

She lowered her gaze while she put the arm ring on her wrist; she knew that accepting it would mean that she had accepted him as her husband. She was not sure if she would ever love him, but she knew that she wanted him to be her husband, that she wanted to be his wife.

He seemed to be encouraged by the fact that she was now wearing his arm ring, because when she looked back up at him, he moved one of his hands to the back of her neck and slowly lowered his lips until they pressed against her own.

It was a kiss similar to the one he had given her on the church when they got married. But it felt so different, she was certain now that he really wanted to kiss her, that he was not kissing her out of duty, and she was also certain that she wanted to be kissed. She realized that she would not feel relieved if someone interrupted this moment, as it had happened in their first morning together.

After a short little while, he pulled back. He looked at her, as if he were considering if he should move forward, as if he wanted to give her time to retreat, but she didn’t.

When he kissed her again, he didn’t just merely press his lips against hers, he slowly brushed them over hers. She remembered every word her ladies told her about the act of consummation but right now she didn’t know for sure what she had to do. So, after a few seconds of hesitation, she decided to rely on her instincts, and she started imitating his movements. She noticed that the hand behind her neck tighten a little bit. He moved his other hand to her lower back, pressing her body even closer to his.

The way her body reacted to his kisses was unexpected. His kisses made her feel a little flutter in her lower belly, it lasted only a few seconds, but she had enjoyed the feeling.

She could feel the warmness emanating from his body, she could smell that fragrance that was a mix of the scented water in which he bathed and his own smell, that smell that reminded her of the trees in the garden. She was having trouble to breathe, she opened her mouth a little bit and he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, she gasped and that seemed to encourage him, and he deepened the kiss. His hands tighten even more, as if he wanted to prevent her from moving away. All of a sudden, he pulled back.

"We should go to bed." He sounded a little out of breath.

She swallowed hard before nodding nervously. When she was back in the bed, she noticed how he smiled while he picked the furs from the floor and placed them back in the bed. He got into the bed, moving his arms closer to her, he carefully wrapped his arms around her, one arm below her neck, the other one over her waist, pulling her closer.

She stiffened a little at first, but after a moment she relaxed. They stayed like that, getting used to being so close to each other. After a while, he talked again. “You were nervous when you returned from the meeting with the archbishop, what happened?”

She took a deep breath. “My father was there as well. He wanted to meet me to tell me that he is troubled because he suspects that I am not fulfilling my wifely duty. And he is afraid that you might not comply with your part of the treaty if I don’t…please you.”

He sighed. “Why is everyone so worried about what happens in our bed?”

“They were concerned before our wedding night because, without consummation, our marriage wouldn't have been valid. Therefore, the treaty wouldn’t have been valid and nothing would have tied you to defend Paris from the Northmen. And now they are worried because they fear that if I don’t make you happy, you won’t keep your part of the deal.”

“But…”

“I know you were sincere when you confessed your love and devotion. But my father does not know this, he fears that you will get frustrated and go back to your brother if I don’t make you happy.”

He frowned. “It looks like your father is more concerned about my happiness than yours.” He shook his head. “Don’t worry. I will speak to your father.” Before she could say anything else, he kept on talking. “But I need to know something. Is that something that you want to do? Do you want to please me?”

She hesitated before answering. “I…have thought about it. I know that it is my duty, but I just don’t think that I am ready to do it…right now.”

“Don’t worry.” His face got closer to hers.

She closed her eyes knowing that his lips were really close to hers. She stilled, she did not dare to move or breathe, wondering if she would feel that little flutter in her lower belly again. She felt surprised when his lips didn’t meet hers. He placed a kiss on her cheek, his lips lingered there a moment before he moved them closer to her ear, and she heard him whisper, “Not tonight, tonight we sleep.”

He placed another kiss in the little mole in her neck. He pulled back and laid his head on the pillow, while Gisla took a deep breath and relaxed again.

For the first time in a long time, she fell asleep without a worry in her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](http://stripesandpolkadot.tumblr.com/). If you want to talk about Vikings, Rollo and Gisla, come by and say hi! :)
> 
> If you are interested in Rolisla, I recommend you to follow the [Rolisla tumblr](http://rolisla.tumblr.com/), where you will find gifs, photos, awesome fanfics, amazing fanart, and anything Rolisla related!


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